I Take You, or Five Times James Wilson Got Married
by Celestially
Summary: “Wilson’s decidedly cynical side commented that his weddings were going full circle. He wasn’t sure whether he was relieved or disappointed that his cynical side spoke in his own voice, and not in House’s.” HouseWilson


**I Take You**

**-or-**

**Five Times James Wilson Got Married**

_To have and to hold from this day forward_

It was a quick, impromptu ceremony without any guests. There wasn't even a priest, rabbi, or judge—just the two of them in the corner of her backyard at about 2:45 one afternoon. They alternated speaking the lines of the priest—or rabbi, or judge—and mimed slipping on rings because, due to the very sudden nature of their engagement, they didn't have any.

They didn't care that nobody was there to witness their union, or cheer as they chastely kissed, or throw rice as they walked away from the big oak tree that sheltered their wedding. Because Jimmy Wilson and Lucy Stevens were very much in love, or at least as in love as two four-year-olds could be.

Their honeymoon was a trip into her house, grinning stupidly as Lucy's mother served them Kool-Aid. Lucy blurted out the secret of their wedding between sips of bright red liquid, much to Jimmy's dismay because he had wanted it to be their little secret. But her mother approved (David would probably get jealous, he decided) smiling sweetly as she made him promise to take good care of her daughter. He nodded fervently, promising that he would stay with her forever. After all, that was what husbands promised their wives. And he was going to be a _very_ good husband to Lucy.

Now refreshed, Lucy and Jimmy moved into the backyard and went inside of the white and pink playhouse ten feet away from the oak tree. He pretend-went to work while she pretend-cleaned the house and pretend-made him dinner. And when he pretend-came home she leaned up to him and pressed a quick kiss against his cheek, popping her right leg up before turning back around to serve him pretend-dinner. They ate outside, mainly because the playhouse was too small to put the table inside, sitting on yellow plastic chairs as he pretend-talked about work. Except it wasn't really pretend because he said things that he had heard his dad say at dinner, things like how the case was going well but he had trouble finding that file, but when he did find the file everything was okay. And she giggled at how grown-up he sounded and paused to kiss his cheek again when she pretend-cleared their pretend-plates.

While they were waiting for the stork to show up with their first kid, they went upstairs into her room to find her an actual ring. Lucy had big gold ring with a bright pink, heart-shaped gem that she had gotten out of a toy dispenser for 25 cents a couple of weeks ago. They couldn't find anything for Jimmy to wear, so when they went back outside she took a blade of grass and tied it around his ring finger.

When Jimmy came back from pretend-work fifteen minutes later and Lucy served him pretend-chicken, he asked her why they couldn't have pretend-hamburgers instead. She put her hands on her hips, ignoring the fact that she had just been holding a pretend-tray of food, and asked him why he was so ungrateful for her pretend-cooking. Of course he wasn't, he insisted, but he didn't want to have pretend-chicken every night, because that would get boring. She raised her arms in the air and started to cry, because she didn't want to get boring, especially compared to Rebecca Turner from across the street, who _everyone_ knew was the prettiest girl on the block. Jimmy knew that too, so when Lucy asked him who was prettier he answered her quite honestly instead of lying, because his mother had told him that lying was bad. Lucy cried more, pointed at the door of the playhouse, and yelled at him to get out. Jimmy didn't argue.

As he stomped out of the backyard to head back home, which was right next-door, he wondered why he hadn't pretend-married Rebecca Turner in the first place. He reached for his left hand to tear off the grass ring, but it had already fallen off.

* * *

_For better or for worse_

When life turned to shit, Jim knew that he could trust Val Matthews. She was the near-constant in his life, and quite frankly the first person he really trusted.

Everyone had blindly assumed that _nothing_ was wrong underneath everything _else_ that was wrong. Jim, after all, had skipped a grade and was starting college a year earlier than the other kids his age. He was the resident golden child of the community: smart, handsome, not necessarily athletic but thin enough to get away with it, and otherwise polite and considerate. Well-liked. Destined for success, unlike everyone else around him.

Maybe all of this was true, but they were using _David_ for comparison. _He_ had stopped going to school almost a year ago when it became increasingly obvious that he couldn't interact with his peers, or anyone other than Jim for that matter. He was notorious for blowing hot and cold, starting fights and then completely withdrawing himself. David balanced out Jim's social perfection by showing the dark side of the Wilson family. Michael, a few years younger than both, stabilized the family by being as normal as possible.

Jim wondered how he had gotten stuck with the job of being "perfect" and bitterly asked himself if that made him as messed up as his brother.

The doctors said that David had Borderline Personality Disorder and wanted to do tests on Jim as well, for the sake of research. David threatened all of them, except Jim, of course, or at least until they got back home. There, he accused Jim hating him, and threatened to run away to make things easier for them. He took it back a few hours later, and the threats became less common once they started giving him pills, but he meant it every time.

As the pressure got to him he turned to Val with increasing frequency. Her life wasn't perfect either: she had a very strained relationship with her father, who still managed to leave bruises on her arm despite her claim that he _never_ hit her. There was a difference, she insisted, but Jim had trouble separating the two. Instead he took Val into his arms and gingerly held her, careful not to put pressure on the bruises, staying like that until they fell asleep.

So that last summer before he went to college, when Val told him that she was pregnant, Jim didn't hesitate to drop everything to marry her.

It would be easiest to just leave the state and get married in Vegas or someplace where people wouldn't ask questions about minors getting married. Val nervously rubbed her arm while she suggested it, and her bra strap slipped off her right shoulder. The unintentional sensuality of that action, heightened by the fact that Jim recognized the strap of the blue bra she had been wearing their first time, made the fact that they were doing this for _their_ child even more exciting.

They had made it to the gas station, where he was filling up the tank for the long trip, when her father showed up. He dragged a kicking and screaming Val out of the car, yelling and demanding to know what she was doing running off with a boy when she was only sixteen years old. Jim froze, clutching the gas pump like his lifeline as Mr. Matthews dragged her into his own car.

The older man politely offered this explanation: Jim was a great kid, _but_...

Jim decided that he could finish the sentence in a million different ways, including "but she's not allowed to marry a Jew" and "but she's not worth the effort." Knowing Mr. Matthews, both of those answers weren't so implausible. But he was most afraid of: "but what if the baby has a mental problem like David?" because he didn't know the answer either.

Mr. Matthews skillfully avoided the subject of his daughter by telling Jim that he had to _wait_ instead of foolishly rushing into a premature marriage. Marriage, after all, was something that was often taken for granted, and he was better off not wasting his first one on a high school sweetheart. Not when he had so much going for him. He couldn't get tied down when he was destined to go up.

Jim really wanted to prove them all wrong by failing miserably, but he could never do that. Opting to find different ways to prove them wrong, he watched as Mr. Matthews drove Val away. He still held the pump in place despite the fact that the tank was full. It was the last time he ever saw her.

In his mind, he had already done the right thing. Maybe they were apart _now_, but he and Val could still end up together. She would just have to wait two years to turn eighteen; then they could find each other again and start over. And she came from one of those Good Catholic Families that didn't believe in abortion, so the child would probably get put up for adoption. They could find her (in his mind, Jim had already decided that their child was a girl), or if they didn't feel like that hassle they could wait until they were ready and try again. He had made Val a promise, and he intended to keep it.

It wasn't until he found out, a year later, that Val had been lying about getting pregnant that he chose to let that fantasy go.

_

* * *

For richer, for poorer_

Aimee liked working at the library, particularly when she had the chance to meet cute medical students like the one in front of her. He needed some reference book and she was supposed to be helping him, but all she could really do was stare at his brown eyes and that cute little butt of his in those sweat pants when he turned. When he finally caught her staring, he flushed and told her that his name was James. He was too cute for a serious name like that, she decided, so told him that she would call him Jamie. He lifted an eyebrow before his face settled into a comfortable smile.

They got to know each other over coffee later that night. Jamie was a third year student and, though it took a bit of pressure to get it out of him, about two years younger than everyone else in his class. He had skipped a year back in middle school, and then completed his undergraduate education in three years instead of four. People looked at him and saw success.

Aimee looked at him and saw what she would never have. So when Jamie offered to share his life with her, she jumped for the opportunity. They married that summer, after her graduation.

The one drawback to marrying a doctor, she noticed, was that before they were doctors they were medical students with plenty of debt. He also had financial aid and student loads from his undergraduate education, so they knew that they were in for some financial issues after he was finally done with school. He would get paid for his residency and fellowship, at least, but they both agreed to try to save up before then in order to get rid of the debt as quickly and painlessly as possible.

Besides, when Jamie was a rich and famous oncologist, they would have plenty of money and she could stop working. He didn't like it when she talked about that, embarrassed by her high praise and expectations. Aimee secretly decided that _this_ was why he was in oncology: he was looking for a field where finding the right answer didn't always mean saving the patient, succeed without _really_ succeeding. He probably felt it was humbling; _she_ thought the whole thing was frustrating.

Aimee was a little upset that his parents weren't doing much to help with his tuition, but, all things considered, it made sense. His younger brother Michael had also started college, and David ... was expensive. Besides, Jamie hadn't wanted his parents to help out too much, for reasons that he didn't elaborate on. She knew that he just didn't want to acknowledge the fact that he needed help, instead preferring to play the good son and not have his parents worry. This, too, was frustrating.

Not that she minded having to help out. It would ultimately be worth it.

At least now that she had graduated, Aimee didn't have to deal with schoolwork anymore, so had time to take a second job. Jamie protested the fact that she wasn't trying to find a good job now that she had her Bachelor's, but she honestly felt that an English degree was pointless. She was better off taking two jobs for a few years until he could open up his practice. _Then_ she could find whatever job her heart desired, if she didn't just stay at home and have lots and lots of his children while resting on his cushy paycheck. But for now, she would have to start working at the coffee shop.

A year later Jamie started his internship, and a year after that his residency. The pay wasn't entirely helpful: between their three paychecks, they weren't paying back as much as they could of his student debts. Aimee took a full-time job at the library, as well as tutored some local middle school students in English for some extra money. They would collapse in bed, too tired for sex or even to cuddle against the other. He wouldn't come home for days at a time, and she understood why, but she sometimes wondered why she was making the sacrifice.

Then he would do something so remarkably considerate and romantic that she remembered. That, and the comfortable future she had in store.

Things got easier when Jamie started his fellowship, which thankfully was only a year. The attending physician he worked under had nothing but praise for his star fellow and had already started mentioning his name in conversation with the heads of hospitals along the East Coast. The best offer eventually came from a teaching hospital in Princeton, New Jersey; despite her mild distaste for New Jersey that came from growing up in New York City, Aimee followed him there. Besides, they liked him enough to ensure job security, so as far as she was concerned everything would turn out perfectly.

Maybe her blissful resignation had been her downfall, for, wrapped up in the comfort of her new lifestyle, Aimee didn't find out about Dr. Gregory House (or _Michelle_, for that matter) until it was too late.

_

* * *

In sickness and in health_

Bonnie had a bounce to her step and a nervous giggle that only made her sad face look even more pitiful. She had a naïve manner that seemed to get her into trouble more often than not. However, this most recent breakup had been rough not because he took advantage of her, but because her doctor boyfriend had broken up with her after dragging her to some conference in Boston.

After the first fifteen minutes of crying in the hotel lobby, she decided that she had sworn off of doctors. The second fifteen minutes found her talking to one Dr. James Wilson, a young oncologist with a New Jersey practice. She thought it was funny that he was from New Jersey too, thus giving way to her trademark nervous giggle, to which he responded with a caring smile, which she later found out was _his _trademark.

An hour later she found herself in the audience of _Cymbeline_ with this Dr. James Wilson, who got her a ticket after his grumpy friend more than enthusiastically relinquished it.

A few months later Bonnie found herself bouncing down the aisle with James smiling on the other end, apparently having ignored her decision to swear off of doctors.

The fact that James' first marriage had ended in an affair could have been a turn-off for her, but there was something sincere about the way he described his previous recklessness. Bonnie knew he wasn't perfect, but he damn well had her fooled every once in a while. She was willing to put up with the drawbacks of being James' wife in order to _be_ James' wife.

She liked Greg House well enough, but was less fond of how much time she was forced to spend with him. But she _did_ like Stacy, who was like the feminine version of Greg: sarcastic but rather nice, and put up with Bonnie's occasional vapid moments with relative ease. She fell into the odd rhythm quickly enough, comfortably assuming the role of "Wilson's wife" and Stacy's counterpart. She wanted to spend more times with James and James _alone_, but it seemed to make him happy to spend time with best friend, so gladly made the sacrifice.

The sex was _really_ worth it, too, despite the infrequency with which it was beginning to occur. Nobody aimed to please more than James Wilson. And they didn't try to have kids because he was just so _busy_ between his job and his best friend. He needed a little more time and stability before they would be ready to introduce a new factor into their marriage, and that suited her fine. If it meant more time with Bonnie (_our family_, she corrected herself) then it was worth the wait.

She told herself that the cruise had nothing to do with James being more distant than usual, because it really _did _have nothing to do with that. Sure, he grew busier and busier as they were considering him for department head of oncology, but otherwise their marriage was in no real danger. That being said, however, he was stressed and needed a break, and it didn't take much for Bonnie to convince him that a vacation would be worth it. Besides, they had always wanted to visit the Atlantic Islands, and it seemed like a nice enough cruise. Her only rule was that he would leave everything back at their house and allow himself to _relax_ a bit while they had the chance.

They didn't find out about the infarction until they got back.

James never tried to make her feel guilty about not being around for Greg's infarction, but Bonnie still felt uneasy. Stacy had failed to reach them during the cruise—and Bonnie asked herself how much effort the other woman had put into it in the first place—but what if she had succeeded? James definitely would have insisted on cutting their vacation short to go back to Princeton, but she wasn't sure how she would have reacted. Either option would be destructive: by returning he wouldn't be taking advantage of this opportunity to relax and spend time with her, and by insisting that they stay she would only drive a bitter wedge in their marriage. While James certainly grieved the fact that he hadn't found out about the infarction until it was too late, Bonnie was convinced that _this_ had saved their marriage.

Not that it was being threatened in the first place. They were happy. He wasn't always there, and if he was, so were Greg and Stacy. But that could change. That could improve. She could spend time with James during Greg's recovery. Maybe he would start to depend on it. On her, just as she did on him.

Things, however, didn't go as planned. James had resigned himself to the role of Greg's caretaker after Stacy had tearfully moved out. Now, as her husband tended to his best friend, she realized that Stacy had been her one friend over these past few years. She had no one else to turn to because the other entity in her married life had always been GregandStacy. So once Stacy was cut out of the picture, Bonnie felt like the third wheel in her own (damn) _marriage_ as Greg soaked up James like the selfish little leech that he was.

She wasn't quite on first name basis with the neighbors. Old friends from college had stopped reaching out to her. She felt like she hadn't spoken to her mother or sister in a while, either. Meanwhile, James didn't come home as often.

She stopped waiting for him. She had to. Bonnie still craved his warmth but didn't actively pursue it. She had at first, with less than satisfying results. Just has Greg had cut off Stacy, James was beginning to cut _her_ off as well.

At least she still had Hector.

_

* * *

To love and to cherish_

When he proposed to Julie, he had asked himself why he wanted to marry her in the first place. This is a logical question, not necessarily motivated by a lack of love—it was simply the precaution of a man who had thrown himself into marriage far too many times to let another one slip away.

He came up with a couple of reasons: she made him laugh (or her socially appropriate dinner table banter was enjoyable, at the very least). She was beautiful (imperfect, but it was appealing). He loved her (and shouldn't that be a good enough reason?). The words in parentheses were of no concern because he had parentheses for everyone. Cuddy, for instance, was fun (when she wasn't trying to be his boss). Michael was nice (but still blamed him for letting David destroy himself). House was a good friend (he could go on forever here, but more often opted not to).

But Julie was like him. Her husband had divorced her before the five-year mark that their pre-nuptial agreement had specified, so she had been left with nearly nothing. He had been going through his divorce with Bonnie at the time—they bonded over marriage horror stories and the pains of filing for divorce. Coffee lead to dinner lead to plays lead to spending nights together lead to him proposing and asking himself if it was really worth it.

It was.

They had realistic views of what marriage was and how it should go. She knew that he could be called to the hospital at any time, had a history of affairs, and could become emotionally detached at times. He knew that she was demanding and forceful, and held strong grudges. They weren't looking for Eternal True Love or any emotional crap like that. They wanted the convenience of someone to come home to and talk to, all under the fitting label of "husband and wife."

So they married. House was the best man. Julie wasn't too happy about that because she wasn't exactly sure what she thought of him. But they both agreed that they needed to have "independence with communication," which basically meant that they had freedom to do what they wanted as long as they talked about it. This, after all, was what they both felt they had lacked in their previous marriages, what caused him to cheat and her to hold grudges. This was the solution to the problem that hadn't presented itself yet.

In theory it would work; in practice, he felt an uncomfortable distance. This distance wasn't uncommon to his marriages, and usually signaled the beginning of the end. Those distances were frightening, just as they should be. With Julie, he just felt unattached, as if their lives only crossed when they were at home, and even then there was an excess of space. This, in many ways, was worse than the looming threat of divorce, because distance wasn't supposed to _exist_ at the beginning of a marriage.

They each had different reasons to not want kids. Julie didn't particularly want kids. He did, _really did_; at the same time he wasn't sure if he wanted to have his kids with _her_. Meanwhile they allowed themselves to have sex, which served its purpose despite being incredibly infrequent. He still aimed to please, but her reciprocations were sterile and detached.

More than ever he was tempted to cheat, but last time he cheated hadn't been as good either. That's why he had told Bonnie in the first place: because the sex hadn't been worth lying about. But _this_ time he was on a mission to prove that he could have a relationship with a woman that didn't end with him having an affair. It didn't have to be a particularly _healthy_ relationship, but if it could shut House up about cheating then it was good enough for him.

What scared him the most was that he felt that he had no identity with Julie. Instead of being half of "husband and wife," he simply felt like the "husband" of some anonymous "wife." Then, when Julie was there, he thought that he was simply "Julie's husband," without a separate name or existence. And maybe he wasn't listening hard enough, but he was pretty sure that she never really said his name, either.

Thankfully he had a life at work, with House. The hospital, he decided, would be his new home. Or maybe the sofa in House's living room. He knew that he was compromising his marriage by doing this, but in a twisted way he didn't care as much as he should have. Sure, House gave him shit about it, continuously accusing him of having an affair, but it was the better alternative.

So it shouldn't have come as a surprise when she cheated on him, but he was still surprised. And it should have hurt him, but it never did.

_

* * *

From this day forward_

One night of drunken debauchery and a few weeks of avoidance later, House's fellows were beginning to complain about the speed at which House was ruling out cancer: faster, they claimed, than he had ever ruled out _lupus_. When they suggested consulting Wilson, _just to be sure_, he shouted and stormed around with a particularly loud step-thump that had the lab downstairs complaining to Cuddy. Cuddy, of course, rolled her eyes and bypassed talking to House by going immediately to Wilson, who avoided answering the question by faking a page.

It seemed like a very "House" move, but House probably would have been confrontational instead, if his current attitude meant anything.

That night, they found themselves kissing on House's couch again, but the next day they made even more of an effort to avoid the other, and House's step-thump was even louder.

It took a few more repetitions of this cycle to accept the fact that maybe there was potential beyond a quick, drunken fix. This time, the kissing on the couch was hesitant and gentle, and mostly void of alcohol.

But they still avoided each other in the morning, and silently agreed to stop.

Wilson sat in his office the night before his wedding because it was the only place where he felt safe. If he were a different man he would have found himself partying at some bar, celebrating his last night of freedom with ten beers in his stomach, three strippers in his lap, and fifteen of his closest male friends cheering him on. But he wasn't at a bar, he had no intention of drinking, and unlike _some_ friends of his he avoided strippers.

More importantly, his best man and only _real_ friend probably didn't feel like One Last Party before the wedding. Wilson hadn't even asked House if he wanted to be the best man—the unspoken moment of understanding had occurred partially because Wilson hadn't wanted to go through the shame of asking the question, just as House hadn't wanted the shame of having to answer.

Speaking of the best man, House was nowhere to be seen. Wilson decided that he had a good reason to want to be invisible.

He had met Jennifer in a bookstore, where he had started to pass his time in order to avoid his empty hotel room. He struck up conversation over a book she was holding, and they sat together and read until closing time. She was a person to spend time with, to distract him while he was nervous or frustrated over however House was acting this time. Oddly, that reminded him of Val, but he didn't particularly want to think of Val. Jennifer was a sweet woman; kind of mousy like Bonnie, and calm like Julie. She had Aimee's energy, and had he been able to remember Lucy he probably would have realized that they shared the same stubborn ideals.

Wilson's decidedly cynical side commented that his weddings were going full circle. He wasn't sure whether he was relieved or disappointed that his cynical side spoke in his own voice, and not in House's.

No, he was decidedly relieved. House had been surprisingly quiet about his relationship with Jennifer, which he was grateful for. Why would he want to hear his own sarcastic thoughts being voiced by his best friend? It wasn't exactly good for morale.

But, speaking of the best man, House was nowhere to be seen.

Wilson and Jennifer had a textbook relationship. Textbook courtship and textbook proposal, followed by a textbook engagement. The next morning, they would go to their textbook wedding, hop on the plane for their textbook tropical honeymoon, then live their textbook lives as husband and wife. House would tell him that textbook is boring, but maybe that's what he needed. Maybe he needed to follow the textbook this time around so he knew he could get it right. Jennifer, after all, was willing to do anything for her _James_, so why shouldn't he make an effort for her?

But with House he was just "Wilson." They had always familiarly referred to one another by their last names, even when they were doing things that pushed the definition of friendship. He had thought it odd, but looking back he realized that it made him feel humble. It was a refusal to make things change, no matter how much they could change, had changed, and were changing. It was an attempt to maintain friendship, in case things were moving too quickly or going horribly wrong.

It was a force of habit.

And after years of high-pitched cries of "James" or "Jim" or "Jimmy" during the throes of passion, he decided that he much preferred House's low, quiet _Wilson_. It just felt right.

And, speaking of the best man, House—

Jennifer would probably call him soon to talk off some of her jitters, and frankly he wasn't in the mood to listen. He hated that he was already beginning to feel the distance, before the wedding itself, but he wasn't about to deny its existence. House would laugh at him and tell him that it was probably best to get the cheating part over with before committing to the bonds of holy matrimony.

And speaking of the best man, House...

He and Wilson had refused to talk about it. _It_. Them. He didn't even know why _it_ wouldn't work—all he had thought was that kissing, holding, and having sex with your best friend was breaking some kind of unwritten, unspoken rule.

But, all things considered, "bros before hoes" would have become beautifully obsolete.

The fact that they were both men had only really come in retrospect. While they were together, House had been the only thought on his mind, but in those awkward interim periods (_and afterwards, too_, he dutifully reminded himself) he had rested his head in his hands and asked himself what everything meant. He still remembered long necks and delicate collarbones, the soft roundness of a pair of breasts, and the curve of waist next to hip next thigh. Part of him had longed to find comfort in the familiar feminine form, but the part that had kept on going back to House had skillfully ignored that urge. If House had ever thought about the same thing, they didn't talk about it.

And when it was over, Wilson retreated to women. Jennifer was a delightful distraction, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to, or was ready to, forget about House.

And speaking of the best man...

Of...

House.

There were so many things that he would have liked to tell House. _Now_, before he was married and it was too late. There was, first, the matter of them never talking about what had happened, which in his opinion was a big mistake. They couldn't just continue to avoid the issue until Wilson's next divorce, when they could possibly fall back into the same vicious cycle until House was simply too old to keep up. No, they needed to talk about it, _now_, if anything with the purpose of resolving everything so that he could marry his fiancée and maybe attempt some semblance at a normal life.

Then there was the matter of the wedding being a huge, huge mistake. But House had probably already figured that one out on his own, so Wilson decided that he wouldn't _actually_ admit it.

Finally, there were all of the things that Wilson would have liked to tell House when the idea of them being together had been a ridiculous possibility. Like how he thought House was attractive in a very strange way, regardless of his age and thigh. And how he noticed a spark in those shocking eyes, which popped up in the seconds before they leaned into one another for a desperate, alcoholic kiss.

And how the one time that they weren't drunk, the spark was still there.

House had figured Wilson out from the beginning; House didn't see him as James or Jim or Jimmy or that _ridiculous_ Jamie, but as _Wilson_. He had stripped him bare in more ways than one. House hadn't witnessed the True James Wilson as much as he had helped to create him. All of those aspects of his private personality, like the hint of mischief and nerdy side, had been separate parts of the various roles he had played over the years, but House had been the first one to assemble them. The lonely bastard had done it for his own selfish reasons, but he was still grateful.

Finally there was the apology that he had wanted to make, right there at the very end. The _I'm sorry I didn't always believe you_ and _I'm sorry for lecturing you so much_, but most importantly the _I'm sorry I love you maybe a bit even though I don't understand it_.

And Wilson had been thinking so much about all of the things that he wanted to say to House that when House suddenly showed up at his door he had no idea what to say.

House didn't say anything to fill the silence. He stood in the door for a moment before stepping through the threshold, quietly closing the door behind him. He limped to the sofa and Wilson moved to join him, sitting not on the chair but on the couch next to him. There was only a cushion of space between them, but he felt too close and too far at the same time.

They didn't talk.

"Don't do it," House finally said, eyes moving restlessly before settling on the head of his cane, then on Wilson's face. He didn't explain his request because there was no need to.

Wilson didn't respond at first. He looked into House's eyes and saw the very things that he had been thinking to himself earlier, but wasn't sure if, by some miracle, House had heard them or if they had been there to begin with. Next to those chaotic thoughts, in the brightest fleck of blue, he saw a spark.

"Okay," Wilson answered. No promises, no vows. He leaned in a little closer, and nothing else needed to be said.


End file.
